Taking Some Time (SPN, Dean)

[MissBayliss]

On 17 May 2016 at 11:54 AM, telltale said:

I hope you feel better soon.  I'm glad the story is cathartic for you in some way.    I know it definitely is for me as a reader, the way you don't shy away from how lost Dean is, and take the time to have others care for him the way there can never be so much time on the show.  It's so nice.  And this might sound weird, but I love the way you have him tearful so often; it's completely in keeping with someone in his mental and physical state yet only certain authors can write him in that kind of state where it feels very in character like this, very Dean.  Love the incessant sneezing too, of course.  Poor bb.

Thank you so much for that  I have been consistently nervous about the amount of tears and crying I'm writing into Dean, wondering if it's too much, if it's out of character, if it's believable, so that really helps me and I'm very glad to hear it. I justify it because Dean is quite tearful in the show. He cries a lot more than Sam and is a much more emotional guy I think, and with all he's been through and is going through it tends to make sense. I also take a bit of the feeling from my own experience in moments when the pain is really bad it can make you a bit emotional and it's not something you can really control. Even if you don't actually cry, that feeling sort of lingers behind your eyes. Taking the negativity away from it, the vulnerability is actually quite a beautiful thing.   Thanks for your feedback as always! 

On 17 May 2016 at 1:07 PM, ickydog2006 said:

I always love,when I step away from the forum and get to come back to this

Aw, that's so sweet. Thank you  

On 17 May 2016 at 7:22 AM, starpollen said:

Lovin the whupin Yay angst and needy hurt sick boyz.

Hehe, my guilty pleasure  

On 20 May 2016 at 2:46 AM, Wow Really? said:

Sorry I'm just now getting around to this.. Let's just say that I can relate (and sympathize) with the rough time you're having. Hopefully things smooth out soon 

Also, this chapter has everything that I crave in a fic. EVERYTHING. Thanks so much for continuing.. These kinds of stories are a great escape for me. 

Lastly, I'm thinking that if there was such thing as a 'cough fetish forum', I'd join that too... :-) 

 

Omg, I would love a cough fetish forum hehe. Thank you for your ever present support, you beautiful flower  I'm glad I can provide an escape for you. I'm feeling better. I hope you are too

On 22 May 2016 at 10:00 AM, Pyrus_Fangmon said:

This! Holy hell my heart us aching at this! Dean, honey bunches! 

You capture the emotions and characters just beautifully! I know I say that every time, but oh my god. Don't you ever stop!

And you. Feel better soon!

Thank you so much, Pyrus  

[telltale]

57 minutes ago, MissBayliss said:

Thank you so much for that  I have been consistently nervous about the amount of tears and crying I'm writing into Dean, wondering if it's too much, if it's out of character, if it's believable, so that really helps me and I'm very glad to hear it. I justify it because Dean is quite tearful in the show. He cries a lot more than Sam and is a much more emotional guy I think, and with all he's been through and is going through it tends to make sense. I also take a bit of the feeling from my own experience in moments when the pain is really bad it can make you a bit emotional and it's not something you can really control. Even if you don't actually cry, that feeling sort of lingers behind your eyes. Taking the negativity away from it, the vulnerability is actually quite a beautiful thing.   Thanks for your feedback as always!

It's completely believable for anyone in his situation, but there's something very 'Dean' about the way you've written it that I can't explain.  It just works super-well, anyway!  I agree that Dean is shown to be very emotional onscreen as well, perhaps more emotional than a lot of male characters are shown to be on many shows.  I think there's a segment of perhaps more casual viewers that take his machismo and 'no chick flick moments' at face value, when it's shown at many other times to be an obvious front.

 

Also, "Taking the negativity away from it, the vulnerability is actually quite a beautiful thing" is a beautiful way to put things. 

[MissBayliss]

A bit shorter this time, and a bit rushed. My apologies. Thank you all for your amazing, yummy, fuzzy feels you give me when you comment. Please comment whenever you can. It fuels my fire.  

 

Chapter Sixteen

 

Dean felt Sam’s fingers gripping his forearm and the relief of having him there almost allowed him to just let go. He felt himself falling backwards.

“Dean,” Sam’s arm was around his back, countering his weight, “Hold on. Let’s get to the couch.”

Sam supported Dean over to the couch.

“What’s worse? Back or shoulder?”

Dean slipped back into the couch cushions, “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’ll get you ice and your heat pad. You comfortable like that?”

Dean smiled at the question, “As I’m going to be.”

Sam smelt of fresh cut grass and gasoline. He got Dean settled on the couch, not lying completely flat because of the whole breathing thing.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean croaked.

“Yeah?” Sam said, looking down at him like he was wondering what else he could do, what more could he give him to make Dean feel better, to make it all go away. And willing to give everything.

“Just talk to me, man,” Dean smiled again, keeping it light. Trying to. “Distract me.”

Sam looked confused, and then sad. Dean closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see it.

“Sure… of course.”

 

…

 

Bobby stumbled in at 3 o’clock in the morning, tracking mud in on his shoes, bleeding from a gash across his brow.

Sam shoved him in a shower, cleaned up, and stitched him up before sending him to bed in the guest room, and thought maybe if this was where Bobby wanted to come after a hunt when he was on this side of America than he didn’t have a problem with that. No problem at all.

After Dean had hit a pretty hard wall earlier in the day, he’d managed to fix him up as best he could. He applied heat when he needed it, ice almost constantly, pills and water and food, nebuliser treatments, everything he could think of beside a foot rub. He’d seemed to get better. Spaced out on meds but at least not crying in agony. He’d even made it to the dinner table to eat the grilled cheese Sam made for dinner. After that Dean had put himself to bed and Sam hadn’t heard a peep from him… which he soon realised wasn’t a good sign.

Dean wasn’t asleep. Sam went in to check on him and he was staring at the ceiling. He sighed. Dean didn’t look at him.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Sam saw Dean swallow.

“Dean?”

Sam walked in and sat on the bed next to Dean, mattress tipping.

Looking closer Dean’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated, bottom lip quivering.

“Dean, come on, man. Come back to me.”

Dean took a deep breath in, startled, “Sam?”

“It’s me, Dean. It’s real,” he grabbed his brother’s hand, holding tight.

Dean sighed, lungs crackling, “Where am I?”

Sam put his other hand on Dean’s forehead. He wasn’t overly warm.

“You’re at the house. We live here.”

Dean’s eyes flitted around the room.

“I promise you, you’re not there. You got out. It’s over.”

“Okay…” Dean breathed.

“You okay now?” Sam asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

Dean avoided looking at him.

“Can you… can you stay?”

Sam watched Dean gulp painfully.

“… Sure,” Sam lay down on his brother’s bed, patting Dean’s chest gently.

 

…

 

Dean woke up first. He furrowed his brow looking at his brother sprawled on his stomach on the bed next to him. He didn’t know why Sam was sleeping in his bed, or on his bed rather. He wasn’t under the covers. Sam and Dean hadn’t shared a bed since Dean was ten years old. Luckily it was a king and there was enough room for them both to lie without any risk of them touching each other.

“Sam,” he said, voice husky.

Sam snuggled deeper into the pillow so Dean let him be.

Dean wasn’t quiet in his movements these days. He rolled onto his side to push himself up to sit. He let out a bubbling cough, grabbing some tissues to press against his mouth. He was in pain, aching in his chest as well and seriously needing to use the neb. It was clumsy work getting things done with one hand but he managed to set it up.

 

…

 

Sam wasn’t in his bed when he woke up, and his hand was no longer firmly on his brother’s chest. He could hear a whir, and crackly breathing. He looked over and Dean was hunched on the edge of the bed beside him, mask over his face, looking pale and so small, freckles standing out across his whole face. He didn’t realise Dean was so freckled until now.

“Hey,” He said, sitting up, rubbing a hand through his hair.

Dean smirked, managing a congested “Morning.”

“You need help?”

He waved a hand, “’M good.”

Sam yawned, “You get any sleep?”

Dean coughed into the mask, “I think so… I have no idea what you’re doing in my bed though.”

Sam huffed, “You wanted me to stay, dude. Begged me, really.”

Dean frowned, “You’re full of it.”

Sam laughed, “Seriously, dude! Wanted to cuddle and everything.”

“Get off my bed,” Dean growled.

Sam laughed again, “Fine. What you want for breakfast? Bobby’s here.”

Dean looked confused.

“He stumbled in early this morning. He’s a little banged up, but doing okay.”

“He shouldn’t have been out there alone,” Dean grumbled.

Sam bowed his head, “I’m gonna take a shower first. You need anything?”

“Dude, I’m good,” Dean bit.

Snappy, Sam thought, before getting up and returning to his room.

 

…

 

While Sam was in the shower Dean got a phone call from his doctor. Surgery was scheduled for his shoulder next week. Given his history, and current medical condition he was considered a priority.

“Dean, I wanted to talk to you about the large scar on your shoulder…”

“What about it?” Dean grumbled, guarded.

“While you’re in the hospital I can have a plastic surgeon come by and take a look. See if there’s anything they can do to possibly remove it for you, if that was something you’d be interested in.”

“They can remove things like that?”

“Well, it would probably require a large skin graft I’d imagine…”

“No, thanks, doc. I’ve been sliced into enough,” Dean cringed saying the words.

“My apologies, Dean. I just thought I’d let you know that the option was there.”

Dean sighed, “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.”

“Okay, not a problem. How are those antibiotics? Starting to clear up yet?”

“I think so,” Dean pressed his hand into his chest.

“That’s good, Dean. I’ll see you at the hospital on Thursday and hand you over to the surgeon that’ll be doing your shoulder…”

“Wait – you’re not doing it?” Dean felt his chest clench.

“Oh, no, Dean. I haven’t performed surgery for a few years now. It’ll be Dr James handling the surgery.”

Dean was silent, trying to calm his breathing.

“Dean? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, doc. So, what’s the plan?”

“I’ll send you out an email with the details. We’ll admit you in the morning and you should be home that night if all goes the way it should.”

“You’ll be there in the morning when I get there?”

“Of course.”

“Good, ‘cause I won’t know where I’m going,” Dean laughed, trying to push down this clingy streak that had somehow scrambled to the surface.

“Let me know if you have any concerns about this… at all.”

“Sure,” Dean nodded to himself, “Thanks for calling.”

He hung up the phone and threw it onto his bed.

“Oh, god,” he bowed his head.

The thought of somebody cutting into him, a stranger, while he lay helpless on a table, surrounded by cold, hard equipment, terrified him. And it was a kind of fear that was so intense it was almost tangible.

“Dean?”

A knock came at his door, followed by Bobby’s voice. He couldn’t answer just yet, the fear stealing away his words, paralysing him.

Bobby opened the door and soon Dean felt his hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, talk to me.”

“… Bobby,” Dean reached his hand up to grip his surrogate father’s, “I’m really scared.”

“Dean, look at me,” Bobby said, firmly.

Dean looked up at Bobby’s eyes, feeling guilt at the sight of the stitches on his forehead, but his gaze was strong.

“You’re going to be fine. You don’t have to be scared, not of this. Me and Sam, we’re here, Dean… and we ain’t goin’ anywhere… ever.”

 

…

[BlueKeeper]

I've been following this story from the beginning, yet never commented anything until now. I think what compelled me to come out of hiding was that I'm amazed at the away you have hit the nail on the head with Dean. I can picture this so perfectly as a story arc with Sam being so worried and Dean and yes he is a very emotional person, so I think his tears are justified! I can imagine his pain and struggle while trying to be stoic and dying inside because he just wants to hunt so bad. Even though it's more hurt/comfort I still check every week to see the latest installment because I'm so amazed. I love this so much and you are an amazing writer! I've had a couple drabble ideas off this story alone, maybe one day I'll pop my fanfic cherry and post them *sweats nervously* But in the meantime, fantastic job and much love 

[Wow Really?]

[Omg, I would love a cough fetish forum hehe. Thank you for your ever present support, you beautiful flower  I'm glad I can provide an escape for you. I'm feeling better. I hope you are too  ]

Thank you. It's been a struggle lately, but I'm hanging in there.  Can't give up now. So glad to hear that things are better in your world!

You will always have my support. I'm right here if you need anything.  xxoo

And another amazing chapter, BTW.. Can't wait to see where you're taking us. Hopefully you're taking us on a looooooong journey lol, cuz hellatus is coming, you know.. One more episode.. 

[telltale]

The image of sad, sick, freckly Dean is too much for me, SWOON. 

 

Also, I apparently can not stop commenting on the fact that I love how based in a real emotional world this is, because I do love it, lovelovelove.  It's a sad story but the way you've written Sam and Bobby as caretakers leaves me feeling less sad at the end of each chapter or more just... satisfied if that makes sense?  Sometimes a chapter will make me feel hopeful and sometimes it won't, but that undercurrent of love always keeps things from being too tragic, even when the circumstances themselves are tragic.  This is just such an epic piece of h/c at this point; you are the best!

[MissBayliss]

12 hours ago, BlueKeeper said:

I've been following this story from the beginning, yet never commented anything until now. I think what compelled me to come out of hiding was that I'm amazed at the away you have hit the nail on the head with Dean. I can picture this so perfectly as a story arc with Sam being so worried and Dean and yes he is a very emotional person, so I think his tears are justified! I can imagine his pain and struggle while trying to be stoic and dying inside because he just wants to hunt so bad. Even though it's more hurt/comfort I still check every week to see the latest installment because I'm so amazed. I love this so much and you are an amazing writer! I've had a couple drabble ideas off this story alone, maybe one day I'll pop my fanfic cherry and post them *sweats nervously* But in the meantime, fantastic job and much love 

Well, thank you so much for coming out of hiding  You are very welcome here! I know it's not a sneeze fetish fic... I tried to make it that way but it morphed into something so much more. I'm glad you're all hanging along for the ride. Thank you for validating my Dean for me! I have doubts, so it's nice to hear it's in keeping with the character. 

Oh, please, drabble away! If my fic sparks something in you, go for it. Do not shy away. And don't ever be nervous, 'never a failure, always a lesson.'   

12 hours ago, Wow Really? said:

[Omg, I would love a cough fetish forum hehe. Thank you for your ever present support, you beautiful flower  I'm glad I can provide an escape for you. I'm feeling better. I hope you are too  ]

Thank you. It's been a struggle lately, but I'm hanging in there.  Can't give up now. So glad to hear that things are better in your world!

You will always have my support. I'm right here if you need anything.  xxoo

And another amazing chapter, BTW.. Can't wait to see where you're taking us. Hopefully you're taking us on a looooooong journey lol, cuz hellatus is coming, you know.. One more episode.. 

Ditto. Right back at ya.  

I honestly don't know how long it's going to go. I can say I have written the ending. Now it's just the journey to get there. (a looong journey )

2 hours ago, telltale said:

The image of sad, sick, freckly Dean is too much for me, SWOON. 

 

Also, I apparently can not stop commenting on the fact that I love how based in a real emotional world this is, because I do love it, lovelovelove.  It's a sad story but the way you've written Sam and Bobby as caretakers leaves me feeling less sad at the end of each chapter or more just... satisfied if that makes sense?  Sometimes a chapter will make me feel hopeful and sometimes it won't, but that undercurrent of love always keeps things from being too tragic, even when the circumstances themselves are tragic.  This is just such an epic piece of h/c at this point; you are the best!

Insider info, I contemplated ending the chapter on the line "I'm really scared." because I've taken to ending the chapters with these tragic moments or pieces of dialog, but this time I felt you guys needed more than that. I think you have to have the good with the bad, but I think if there's too much bad, it stops being good. Because the story is so Dean-centric and you feel like you're right there with him, ending it that way would have been just another punch in the gut. I needed more. I felt like you guys needed more. And I know Dean needed more. So having Bobby say that too him and ending it more with a 'we're going to get through it, you are not alone' kind of thing, rather than a 'I can't do this, I'm not strong enough', was definitely a more satisfying end. So, thank you for commenting on that, because I really work on my chapter endings.   

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

To all of what everyone has said and more! And hopes that you are doing well also!

I'm kind of in the same boat as Dean, but unfortunately don't have a Sam by my side to make it all go away

[MissBayliss]

Chapter Seventeen

 

Dean stayed in bed all day.

Sam brought him breakfast that he didn’t eat.

His hand shook as he accepted the offered pills, showing he was in pain but not saying it. In fact he stopped talking all together.

Sam and Bobby let him be, feeling he needed the space and time to think about things.

Sam removed the breakfast tray with Dean’s untouched toast and eggs at midday and replaced it with a sandwich for lunch.

“Dean, are you going to eat this?”

Dean closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

“Okay… well, I made it for you and you should probably eat something. You know, all the pills you’re taking… you need something in your stomach.”

Dean groaned and kept his eyes closed.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

 

…

 

Sam and Bobby were sitting on the couch, something on TV in the background while they researched hunts for Bobby in the area. There hadn’t been a peep from Dean’s room in hours, except for the occasional coughing explosions, a muffled sneeze or two. Sam had started thinking about getting something for dinner. Dean had only eaten two bites out of his sandwich, so he needed to get something into him soon.

Just as he was thinking about what he could make that Dean would like he heard his brother’s door open and the sound of his boots coming up the hallway.

Dean looked fresh, shaven, dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt and jacket, sling over the top, walking tall. Looking probably the best he’d looked since the whole ordeal started, before their run in with the vamps.

“Sam, you got my keys?” he said, gruffly.

“Uh, they’re on the bench there,” Sam pointed, standing up, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going out, Sam,” Dean said, grabbing the keys. He stopped when he saw the lore books and computer on the coffee table, “What’s all this?”

“Oh, we’re just trying to find a case for Bobby, that’s all.”

Dean nodded, keeping his chin up.

“Dean, you sure you’re alright to be going out?” Bobby eyed him from the couch.

Dean shrugged, “I’m fine. Don’t wait up,” he said pulling the door closed behind him, leaving Sam and Bobby with their mouths hanging open.

 

…

 

Dean walked into the bar, waltzing up to a barstool and beckoning the barmaid.

“Hey, can I grab a cheeseburger and fries, extra onion.”

“Sure,” she smiled, “Anything to drink?”

Dean breathed heavily. Shit.

“Nah,” he laughed out, shakily, “Maybe water,” he added as an after thought.

“Okay,” she nodded, glancing at his arm in the sling.

“Is Riley on tonight?” Dean asked, smiling.

“She gets on at 7,” the barmaid said, before heading to the back to hand over his order.

Dean checked his watch. The night was still young.

 

…

 

The half a burger he’d eaten sat heavily in his stomach. Maybe something so greasy wasn’t a good idea after he hadn’t eaten anything all day. He pulled the painkillers out of his pocket and swallowed one with his sweating water glass. Cool beads dripping down the sides to form a puddle on the bar top.

“It lives,” Dean looked up to see Riley hanging off the bar, “Didn’t think I’d see you back here for a while.”

Dean smiled, dropped his head to look down at his meal, pushing the plate further away, “Couldn’t keep me away.”

Riley eyed his water glass, “Not drinking tonight?”

Dean shook his head, “Nah… pills and stuff. I’ve already got in trouble once.”

Riley laughed, moving closer to where Dean sat behind the bar.

“You done with your meal, honey? You’ve barely touched it.”

“Yeah, I’m done,” Dean grumbled, swallowing thickly.

“Was it okay?” she wrinkled her brow.

Dean smiled wryly, “It’s fine, just not that hungry.”

“Okay,” she said, taking it away from him.

Dean palmed the sweat off his face. It was a little warm in the bar. He didn’t stand a chance of picking up if he was a disgusting, sweaty mess.

Riley returned and Dean grinned.

“So, what time you get off tonight?”

Riley cocked her head to the side, giving him a tertiary glance up and down.

“Eleven.”

Dean took a sip of water to stop from coughing.

“Why? You got something in mind?” she asked.

“You look like a girl that knows how to have fun, that’s all,” Dean smirked.

Riley grinned, then her smiled faded slightly, “Dean…”

Dean sensed her hesitation and put a hand up to stop her, “It’s fine. I get it.”

“No, Dean… I just… Are you sure you’re okay to… have fun?”

Dean glanced at his watch, “This painkiller’ll kick in, in about 20 minutes. Then I’ll be good for 6 hours.”

At a push.

Riley looked sympathetic, but still eager, “Okay… Do you want me to grab you a booth or you comfortable there? I still got four hours.”

“I’m good here,” he smiled, “Better view,” he added with a wink.

Riley rolled her eyes and left him to serve someone else.

 

…

 

The night got a little busier and Riley wasn’t really able to just hang out and chat with him all night, and he discovered just how lonely a bar was when you weren’t drinking.

His phone buzzed again. He’d already got three texts from Sam.

When are you coming home?

Don’t forget to take your pills.

Please remember you can’t drink on the antibiotics. You don’t want to get sicker.

Dean huffed a laugh as he read the new message.

If you bring a girl back here I’ll kick your ass.

Dean tapped a reply.

Like to see you try.

He thumbed his phone and waited.

Seriously, dude!

Dean laughed, feeling like an idiot for grinning at his phone. Stupid, little brother.

We’ll go back to her place

You’re unbelievable. Did you take your pills?

Yes, MOM.

Shut up. Be careful.

Dean put his phone back in his pocket. He was slow on the painkillers, like he was moving through water, but numb and euphoric. He shifted in his seat though, because even drugged out of his mind he could still feel the hard barstool pushing into his tender sacrum, legs and feet tingling.

“Hey, you alright?” Riley was pouring off the tap in front of him, eyeing him.

“Sure,” he grunted, but his brow was furrowed.

Riley nodded, indicating behind him, “That booth’s free. It’ll be more comfortable.”

Dean glanced back. A cushioned chair did sound better.

He got up and blanched, gripped the bar top.

Shit.

“Hey!” she was grabbing his hand.

Dean had his eyes pressed closed, “I’m good. I’m fine. Just been sitting for too long.”

Riley let go.

“I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll meet you outside when you finish.”

 

…

 

Dean left the impala at the bar and drove back with Riley to her place.

He coughed in the passenger seat, trying to quell it quickly. It was late. He probably needed a neb treatment. Something he hadn’t thought about until now that it was getting harder and harder to catch his breath.

“You live close by?” he asked, rubbing his palm across his chest.

“Yeah, just down here. You okay?”

Dean shifted in his seat, painkillers beginning to wear off, “Yeah, I’m great, sweetheart.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened to you?” she glanced at him as she turned into a driveway.

Dean sighed, coughed into his sleeve, “Not really.”

“You were coughing a lot in the bar…”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “I’ve been a little under the weather.”

“Are you contagious?”

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugged, “Do you care?”

She sighed looking at him, bit her bottom lip, “Not really.”

 

…

 

Riley handed him a cup of coffee and he wrapped his cold hands around the warm mug. She slid behind him on the couch, her slender hands massaging his shoulders.

Dean took a sip and coughed towards the floor. She leaned over his shoulder to look at his face, placing a smooth hand on his forehead.

“Do you just want me to take you home?” she whispered in his ear.

Dean placed the mug on the coffee table and coughed hard into his fist, shaking his head.

“Do you need pills or something?” she asked.

“No, I’m good,” he turned his head and kissed her.

Riley supported him to the bedroom and helped get him lying down.

“You okay?” she asked again, climbing onto the bed beside him.

“No,” he smirked, “but you’re gonna do all the work.”

 

…

 

Dean lay on Riley’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her warm arm was draped across his stomach, her forehead pressing against his bare shoulder. She’d been careful with him, and seemed to kind of enjoy doing the heavy lifting, literally. He glanced down at the tiny beads of sweat on both of their skin, his from fever, hers from exertion. He was surprised she’d gone along with him, wanted to be with him even when he was a wreck. And he’d only gone out looking for it because he’d felt so broken and empty, needing to feel the touch of someone, to not feel afraid for a moment. But now he was lying there, terrified to slip asleep for a single moment, because he didn’t want to go to hell, and he didn’t want her to see how truly messed up he actually was.

She huffed in her sleep beside him and wiggled her nose against his arm.

He smiled down at her before he felt the familiar constriction in his chest. God, he needed to cough. He needed a nebulizer. He needed his brother.

He didn’t want to wake her up but she was lying on his good arm, and even though she’d taken the sling off for him he was still in no position to reach for his phone on the nightstand.

“Riley,” he whispered, trying to wake her gently, but speaking caused him to cough, and that was not quiet.

“Dean?”

He coughed, turning his head away from her.

“You need water, honey?”

Dean shook his head, “Needa… sit up,” he said, between jerking coughs.

“Okay, come on, big guy,” she said, helping him up.

He sat on the edge of the bed in just his boxers, her hand on his back, “You want your sling back on?”

“Should call my brother,” he groaned, rubbing his face.

“You don’t want to stay?” she asked, kissing the back of his neck.

“There’s stuff I need… at home,” he panted, coughed some more, “Besides, I can’t sleep here.”

“Why not?”

Dean bit his lip. Shit, this was a bad idea.

“Hey, you don’t need to tell me,” she said, softly.

Dean nodded, “Can you hand me my phone?”

She put it in his hand and he almost couldn’t see clearly to find Sam’s number, and then beautifully he started coughing again just as Sammy picked up. He felt Riley take the phone from him.

“Hey, Sam… Yeah, that’s him. I can drive him if you like? Oh, okay. Yeah…”

Dean heard her rattle off her address and hang up.

“Sam’s gonna be here soon. Let’s get you dressed, babe.”

 

…

 

There were two things Dean couldn’t help but think as Riley assisted him into his jeans. The first thing was that this was so much better than Sam dressing him, especially because she was only wearing a tight black singlet and tiny red underwear, and she looked so good. The second thing was that it was worlds worse than Sam dressing him, because he knew Sam, Sam was family, and he didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of him.

She helped him dress and get his sling on and made him another cup of coffee.

“Listen, Riley… thanks,” Dean mumbled.

“For what?” she seemed legitimately confused.

“You know,” he nodded.

“Hey, it wasn’t like I wasn’t getting something out of it too,” she winked, sticking her tongue out between her teeth as she grinned.

Dean looked down.

Car lights came through the window.

“I think your brother’s here,” she grabbed his face and kissed him, “When you’re ready to talk about what you’re going through, you know where to find me.”

 

…

 

“Hey,” Sam said, as Dean got in the car, “You have fun?”

Dean smirked, “Yeah.”

He began coughing and leaned forward, head on the dash, like that position would help him get a deeper breath.

Sam’s hand was on his back, and he sagged in his brother’s presence.

“Well, I’m glad… Let’s go home.”

 

…

 

 

(Let me know what you think of Riley )

[telltale]

I like any introduction of an OC that can stand on their own two feet, so I'm liking her a great deal.  And I think it makes total sense that  Dean would seek out that kind of old bar life/a sexual connection with someone to try to normalize things for himself a bit.  Also, I am always all about having another person worrying over Dean. 

[Wow Really?]

Oh my... OH my... I loved this chapter.. The cough! (don't know if the abundance of coughing was meant as a gift to me, but either way.. it WAS a gift to me lol) 

And Riley, I love.. I love the 'mothering' 'comforting' factor that she brings to this.. That's the most fun part of hurt/comfort for me.. the comfort. 

Thanks again for making my day better!

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

19 hours ago, telltale said:

I like any introduction of an OC that can stand on their own two feet, so I'm liking her a great deal.  And I think it makes total sense that  Dean would seek out that kind of old bar life/a sexual connection with someone to try to normalize things for himself a bit.  Also, I am always all about having another person worrying over Dean. 

5 hours ago, Wow Really? said:

Oh my... OH my... I loved this chapter.. The cough! (don't know if the abundance of coughing was meant as a gift to me, but either way.. it WAS a gift to me lol) 

And Riley, I love.. I love the 'mothering' 'comforting' factor that she brings to this.. That's the most fun part of hurt/comfort for me.. the comfort. 

Thanks again for making my day better!

Yes yes and yes! Riley is definatarly a gold keeper in my book!  can't wait to see what you do next with her

[ID2006]

Love this as always

[MissBayliss]

Thanks for your feedback, guys! I didn't plan on using her again but I just felt Dean needed her in that chapter. She'll be back. Not sure what direction I'll take them in yet... we'll see.  

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

Dean lay on his right side and clutched his stomach, drawing his knees up towards his chin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. His head was pounding, his stomach rolling, and he was shivering and sweating at the same time.

Sam had brought him home, gave him a neb treatment and sent him to bed, but he hadn’t slept at all. The day was dawning, light streaming through his curtains. A thin needle of light stabbing painfully into his eyes. He felt wrong.

He managed to get out of bed and make it to the bathroom before he started dry heaving over the toilet, coughing up mucus and strings of bile, all that was left in his stomach. His hands were shaking so much he could barely rip off a couple of pieces of toilet paper to wipe his face and blow his nose. Every time he coughed and choked over the toilet it made his headache that much worse. He tried to calm his breathing, knowing he was panicking, but it was no use. The panic raged inside him, ate him up.

He’d lost sense of time. He had no idea how long he’d been in the bathroom for, crouched in front of the toilet, left shoulder leaning against the wall which was probably a really bad idea, because it hurt, but that was the only thing keeping him from falling completely to the ground in a shaking heap.

At some point later, after it felt like he’d coughed and gagged out the entire lining of his stomach and oesophagus, he felt a cool hand in between his shoulders.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Sam’s voice was beside him and he cracked his eyes open to gaze at his sleepy face.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer. He leaned over the toilet again and coughed up nothing but hot, stinging air.

“Geez, you’re burning up…”

“Sam?” That was Bobby’s voice.

“Dean, talk to us. What’s wrong?” Sam said, again, rubbing his hand up and down his back.

“My head…” Dean leant his elbow on the toilet seat and pressed his fingers hard into his head.

Bobby placed a hand on his arm and he jumped, thumping his shoulder harder into the wall.

“Dean, it’s just me,” Bobby said, fear apparent in his voice.

“Scared me…” Dean panted, eyes tightly shut.

“Did you drink anything last night?” Sam asked.

It did feel like a hangover he’d had once or twice.

Dean gulped, “Nothing… promise,” he offered up a smirk, “Feel sick… and my head is pounding…”

“Sam,” said Bobby’s firm voice, and then a hand found his knee, which he only flinched a little at.

“Be back in a second,” Sam murmured through the constant white noise in his head.

 

…

 

“What, Bobby? What is it?”

Bobby had pulled him out of the room and was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Call me an old drunk, but that looks a lot like withdrawal to me.”

“What?” Sam breathed, glancing back towards the room as he heard Dean retch again.

Sure, his brother liked to drink, and since he’d got back from hell the alcohol consumption had gone up significantly, but withdrawal?

“He shouldn’t still be burning up like that from the chest infection.”

Bobby was right about that. He’d been on and off with the fever but by now that should have been getting better, especially since he’d stopped the alcohol and given the antibiotics a chance to work. The only thing he’d changed now, was that he had stopped drinking.

“But, Bobby, that would mean…”

“That he’s dependent?” Bobby raised an eyebrow.

Sam shook his head, although… yeah. It made sense.

“Sam?” Dean’s shaky voice came from the bathroom and they both made their way back in there.

“Dean, you alright?” Sam crouched beside him.

“I need something…”

Sam glanced at Bobby.

Something.

“What do you need?” Sam asked tentatively.

Dean didn’t answer. He collapsed sideways into Sam, who wrapped his arms around him to keep him from hitting the ground. Sam’s neck was covered in sweat where Dean head pressed into it. His brother was trembling.

“Sam, let’s get him to bed.”

 

…

 

Dean finally came out the other side of it the next morning, after spending about 24 hours sick to his stomach, shaking, sweating, anxious and jumpy, and with a pounding headache. Sam had been pouring water into him every time he was lucid enough to swallow… but it would just come up a few minutes later. His skin was hot and dry, his mouth like cotton wool. He would have killed for a drink to calm his nerves, he even asked for it a few times. Sam and Bobby had been there the whole time, muttering things like, “It’ll pass, Dean”, “Hang in there. It’ll pass”. How they knew it would pass Dean didn’t know. But hearing that from them had offered some comfort. When his fever was high, he slipped back to hell, and he spent the whole day, tiptoeing on the edge of reality, unsure what was real and what wasn’t, because he could feel everything.

When he woke up and actually felt halfway human, he let his eyes scan across the room. Sam was asleep on the floor by his bed, head pillowed in his arms close to Dean’s stomach, as he slept sitting up. Bobby was in the chair by the window, sleeping as well.

Dean went back to sleep.

 

…

 

It was another day before Dean could stomach food, and get out of bed to stretch his legs. He was weak, stumbling, and needed to lean on the wall, or his brother, to stop from falling over.

Sam and Bobby had coerced him out onto the couch. His back and shoulder must have been sore from the constant shivering, clenching tight all his muscles. Sam could tell in the way he carried himself, guarded. Good news was, he was too exhausted from the withdrawal to be grumpy.

“I’m gonna make you some toast for lunch. What do you want on it?” Sam asked, looking over Dean as he lay on the couch, seeming actually interested in the soap opera on TV.

Dean didn’t look at him, “Surprise me.”

Sam hoovered, “How you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been through a meat grinder,” he muttered, a small, sad smile on his lips, “Nothing I can’t handle, Sammy.”

Sam sat down on the arm of the couch, “Dean…”

Dean glanced up at him, “What?”

Sam sighed.

“You better not be about to get serious with me, dude. I don’t really have the energy for that.”

Sam opened his mouth in preparation to say something and then closed it. He changed his mind again before he spoke.

“Do you know why you were so sick, Dean?”

“Bad burger?”

Sam sighed again, clasping his hands, adjusting his elbows to rest on his knees.

“Bobby and I think it was withdrawal.”

Dean stared at the TV, but Sam could see his chest move up and down more quickly as his breathing hastened.

“You’ve been drinking a lot since you… got back, and…”

“Sammy, could we not talk about this right now?”

The clenched way in which Dean spoke made Sam stop and look at him. The colour had gone from his face and he swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” Sam paused, “Sure.”

 

…

 

By the next day Dean was basically back to normal, as normal as it got for Dean. Aside from the pain, and the cough, and the nightmares… Okay, so he was pretty damn far from normal, but at least he wasn’t puking his guts up and sweating through a million shirts. He hadn’t thought about what Sam had said to him. He had too much to worry about to add that one to the list. The “funny turn” he had taken had brought him closer to the surgery day. Two days and he would be under, cut into, carved into. Slicing and tearing and stitching. Pain, pain, pain.

He felt the world slip away. Darkness. Hanging in the void. The sounds of people screaming, and no one there to help. No one helped. There was only screams, and laughter. Wicked laughter. They were laughing at him. They were laughing at the way he cried, and begged, and screamed for his brother. The pain was unreal. Unnatural. Never. Ending.

“Dean!”

Dean saw Sam staring at him from across the table, Bobby beside him. The sounds of the screaming dulled.

You’re not there. You got out.

“You with us, son?” Bobby asked.

Dean cleared his throat, looked down at the sausages on his plate and swallowed back a wave of nausea.

“Sorry, I…”

He, what? Got lost in a hell flashback? Zoned out again?

“It’s okay,” Sam said, stopping his racing thoughts, “You don’t have to explain it.”

Dean sighed, coughed a little, “Thanks, Sammy. I’m not all that hungry.”

“I can make you something else?”

Dean paused a moment, allowed his walls a chance to build back up. Shove the crap down. Move on.

He grinned, “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help us find Bobby a case?”

He read Sam’s look, and fixed him with his own.

Let me have this, man. I need it.

Sam huffed and smiled, “Fine, but you’re not getting out of research this time.”

“Oh, you love that nerdy crap, Sam. You know it.”

“Yeah, laugh it up. I’m serious,” Sam chuckled.

Bobby laughed, looking from Sam to Dean, “Idjits.”

 

…

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

DEEAAAANNNNNN!!!!!! Honey bunches of Oats! The feels!!!!! 

How can you put in the perfect amount of feels and and triggers and and....

Guhhhh I love this storyyyyy!!!

 

[telltale]

Oh the hurt, and comfort.  My heart. 

 

This was a twist I didn't see coming, but makes total sense.  With the amount Dean has drank starting in season 4, it's inevitable, and I've always been interested in it.

[MissBayliss]

I'm early. Just cause  

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

Sam knew it had to be the fact that the surgery was in two days. It seemed the more scared and anxious Dean got, the more he played it off. In some senses he was glad to have his brother back, but he knew it was just a show. And the more Dean tried to push through the pain, the worse he was making it. They were trying to find Bobby a hunt... well, Dean was trying to find Bobby a hunt. Sam and Bobby had agreed that even if they found one, he wasn't leaving until after the surgery and Dean was out of hospital. So, yeah, they were humouring him. And Sam felt guilty as hell, but Dean wanted to pretend everything was fine. And, dammit, Sam did too.

Dean coughed again for what felt like the millionth time. The heavy wetness from it had gone, now the cough was dry and grating. It was a good sign that the antibiotics were working. Which was good because he was on his last day of those. However, the dry cough seemed to annoy Dean more, and since he'd been so sick from the withdrawal and puking his guts up, his voice had slowly started to go. Not that he was speaking much. But when he did his voice was breathy, hoarse, and cut out on him occasionally like he was going through puberty. In normal circumstances Sam would have teased the crap out of him, but now, it just didn't seem fair.

Dean was sitting up at the table in front of Sam's laptop. Sam was reading the local paper and Bobby had his weapons spread out, cleaning and greasing them.

Dean shifted in his seat, straightened his back with a wince and hunched over again, squinting at the screen. He started coughing again before he even had time to bring his fist to his mouth.

Bobby glanced at Sam and raised his eyebrow.

"You need some cough syrup, man?" Sam said, casually, not looking up from his paper.

He felt Dean's gaze on him as the coughing died down.

"Nah, I'm good, Sammy."

The line between Dean's eyebrows got more pronounced the longer they sat there. Sam found himself hoping they'd find something soon so Dean could just go and lie down. He was obviously in pain. He'd made a small hissing noise a few times and placed his right hand over his shoulder. Dean was very telling, even when he wasn't saying anything at all.

"Wow, it's almost lunch time," Sam said, looking at his watch, "You must be ready for some painkillers."

Dean looked at Sam with a hint of hostility, a little combative, before he set his mask firmly back in place. Sam could have laughed at how transparent his brother was, except there was nothing funny about it.

"No way. They whack me out so much I don't know which way's up. I'll go grab us some grub while you keep looking. There's gotta be something worth killing around here," Dean stood up, muscling through pain. Sam could tell by the way his lips turned white from the sudden change in altitude and the drop in blood pressure, but he seemed steady enough.

"Dean, why don't I go? You stay here with Sam," Bobby said, clicking a gun back together.

"I'm good. Besides you're kind of in the middle of something."

Bobby looked down at his greasy hands and the dismantled guns in front of him.

Sam wanted to say so many things.

You need to stay, Dean.

You can't drive with your arm in a sling.

You need to take your medication.

Instead he said, "Try not to get the most unhealthy thing you can find," with a smile.

It was painful to let him go, when Sam was so worried about him getting from the table to the couch and back again. But coddling him, and pandering to him, was killing Dean's spirit. And that in itself was harder to watch.

Dean smirked and snagged his keys off the table, leaning a hand on the doorframe as he crossed the threshold, back clearly in knots.

Bobby looked at him once the front door had swung shut, "You sure it's a good idea letting him go on a supply run?"

Sam sighed, "Not in the slightest."

 

...

 

Dean sat in his car outside a burger joint. The drive had been more difficult than he thought. His shoulder ached, his back ached. He managed to catch his breath and pulled himself from the car with a groan.

Inside generic fast food place #3 the lunchtime rush was in full swing. There were people everywhere, which always put Dean on edge. Well, it had since he’d got back from his little stint down under. A lot of people meant a lot of noise, a lot of threats coming from every direction, and he couldn’t watch out for them all.

People seemed to give him a wide birth, testament to how shattered he looked. The sling was also a beacon for people to steer clear. No one wanted to risk bumping into him. Which was good because Dean didn’t want anyone near him right now.

“Can I help you?”

Dean looked up at the smiling girl in the bright yellow shirt and cap, headset snug over her ears.

“Hey,” Dean croaked, “Can I get a, uh –“

“What was that?” she said, leaning forward, unable to hear his raspy voice over the bustle of the place.

Dean cleared his throat, attempted to raise his voice, “Can I get two double cheeseburger meals, extra onion…”

“Extra onion?” she asked, watching his lips when he spoke like she was trying so hard to listen.

Dean nodded, “And a crispy chicken salad.”

“That was ‘two double cheeseburger meals, extra onion, and a crispy chicken salad’?”

Dean nodded, saving his voice that she could barely hear anyway.

He paid the lady and moved to the side to wait. There was a group of rowdy teenagers behind him, holding skateboards and using less than family friendly language. Dean tried to drown out their drivel, focus on the sound of his breath moving in and out of his lungs, the blood swishing through his ears at the pumping of his heart. He should have taken those painkillers. He was stubborn. Big freakin’ news flash.

Someone shouted his order and he went to the counter, realising their was a bag and a tray of drinks, and how was he supposed to carry that in one hand?

He picked up the drinks tray and tried to get it in his left hand that was poking out the end of the sling, but the weight was too much. The lady watched him struggle.

“I can help you out to your car?” she offered.

Dean sighed, resigned, and smiled at her, “That would be great, thanks.”

She came out from behind the counter and took the bag as he carried the drinks in his right. They were approaching the door when the group of teenagers did something that was apparently the funniest thing they’d ever seen and flailed about laughing. One of them pushed the other and he fell backwards, straight into Dean.

Dean couldn’t see anything but white for a while, deafened by the sound of static in his ears. The kid was tall, and his back had smashed into Dean’s left side, bearing the brunt of it straight on the injured shoulder. Not only that but the jolt had sent a shockwave through his entire body, rattling his spine, pain flaring up all over.

He’d dropped the drinks, spilled them everywhere and was clutching his shoulder. His back found the wall and his tipped his head back, almost losing his legs beneath him.

Sound returned.

“Sir, are you okay!?” It was the girl, standing there with his food.

“Sorry, dude!”

“You alright, man?”

“Dude, he looks like he’s gonna puke.”

“You’re such a freak, Scott. You totally nailed him.”

Dean sucked in shallow breaths. The pain was extraordinary.

“Sir?” the girl said again.

“F-fine,” he breathed, trying not to hyperventilate.

“I can make you some more drinks. Do you want to sit down?”

“Forget it,” he said, hand finding the wall behind him, using it to press up to stand on his own.

“I’m sorry…” she began to say. Dean just grabbed the bag from her.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and limped towards the door.

His back was in spasms, and all he could think about was that erupted disc in his spine, that broken piece moving around in his spinal chord. The thought alone threatened to bring him to his knees. He felt sick.

He threw the food in the front and slumped into the drivers seat. Palming his forehead he realised he was covered in sweat. He just wanted to sit a while, but he knew it would probably be best if he got home as quickly as possible.

 

…

 

Sam tapped the pen aggressively against the table.

“Sam…” Bobby grunted, making him stop abruptly. The tapping had been getting quicker as he kept looking at the clock on the wall, and Dean hadn’t come home yet.

“He should be back by now, shouldn’t he?”

Bobby looked at his watch, “He hasn’t been gone all that long. Give him a few more minutes.”

Sam frowned, “You don’t think… He wouldn’t go to the bar, would he?”

Neither of them could think about that question too much longer, as the rumble of the impala alerted the street of Dean’s return.

Sam let out a sigh of relief.

The impala trundled into the garage and he heard the familiar creak of the door. It seemed to be a long time before Sam heard his brother coming up the front steps. He heard a clatter as Dean dropped his keys.

“Son of a…” Dean grumbled through the door.

Finally the door opened, as Sam was about to get up and let him in.

Dean literally staggered into the room, eyes wide and pupils huge. He was covered in sweat from head to toe, white as a sheet. Sam could see his hand trembling as he gripped the doorhandle.

“My God, Dean. What happened?” Sam started to stand up.

Dean’s eyes roved around the room, then promptly rolled back into his head, and Sam and Bobby watched in horror as he hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

 

…

 

Last week's chapter was kind of short... and so is this one. So it's a bit of a bonus. I'll probably post again on Monday as scheduled! (but also I'm coming into exams so I might not have as much time. I'll certainly try). Much love. Appreciate the comments as always. 

[telltale]

This sounds so questionable, but I love it when Dean faints.  My bb.  Love how close Sam and Bobby are sticking to him too, while still giving his as much free reign as they can.  It adds not just comfort but some sweetness to the whole heartbreaking situation.

Edited June 12, 2016 by telltale

[Wow Really?]

Awesome chapter, as always! Poor Dean... I want to pet him.

And no worries on being able to get chapters out as frequently.. Even though it might be a little bit painful for me, something tells me exams are a little bit more important than fan fiction. I'll wait as long as I need to. 

[MissBayliss]

Hey guys.  

Thanks for your patience. I am in a hurricane of stressful, busy craziness right now. It's basically a shit storm at the moment. Trying to keep on top of things. Failing. Appreciate the support though  Here's a new chapter. Warnings for mental health subject matter (not that I've been shying away from it previously) but this one's a little bit heavier on it. 

I may have to take a 3 week break, not sure what it's going to be like, but I have nursing placement starting on Monday, in a mental health ward  

(Personal side note: Jared, Jensen and the Always Keep Fighting campaign have been a major influence on my desire to work in mental health, and be an advocate for the cause, for which I am eternally grateful  ) 

Go well, my friends. Look after yourself. 

PS. You are enough.  

Chapter Twenty

 

 

Sam and Bobby rushed to Dean’s side, as he lay completely unconscious, body twisted with his sudden collapse. Sam’s hand found his forehead, tapping his cheeks. His skin was cold, Sam’s hand came away wet with sweat.

“He’s in shock,” Bobby said, as Sam stared fearfully at his hand.

“Sam,” Bobby said, firmly.

“Yeah,” Sam muttered, snapping out of his frozen panic.

“Get him on his back, find something to prop his legs up. Grab a chair.”

Sam helped Bobby roll Dean onto his back, careful of his shoulder. He dragged a chair over from the table and lifted Dean’s legs onto it.

Bobby was checking his breathing and pulse. Sam’s eyes were fixed on Dean’s face, completely lax, and paler than he’d ever seen it, and that was saying a lot after the last few weeks they’d had. He could still see Dean stumbling through the door, and not being able to move fast enough to catch him before he hit the ground. Why the hell did he let his brother go out? What had happened while he was gone? He was doing fine when he left. Sure, he wasn’t in great shape but he wasn’t this bad.

“I got no radial pulse,” Bobby muttered, moving his hands to Dean’s carotid artery in his neck.

“What do you mean?” Sam said, gripping his brother’s hand, feeling the ice cold skin.

Bobby pushed his hat back and scratched his head.

“His blood pressure’s real low, Sam.”

Sam’s own breathing quickened as Dean made no sign of waking up. Bobby must have been satisfied that there was a pulse, albeit a weak one, and Dean was still breathing. Bobby was talking softly to Dean, trying to get him to come back, but he was completely checked out.

Bobby looked at his watch, “I’m giving him 2 minutes to wake up. If he doesn’t, I’m calling an ambulance.”

It was a minute forty seven before Dean began to stir, and Sam was close to tearing his hair out, if he wasn’t still hanging onto his brother’s hand.

It started with a vigorous shiver, then his tongue appeared sluggishly to wet his lips, before his eyes cracked open.

“Wha – “ Dean sucked in a breath.

“Easy, Dean, easy.”

“Cold,” he shivered, again.

Bobby already had two blankets over him so he settled for tucking them closer around him.

“Okay, stay here, son. Stay with me.”

Dean’s eyes closed again and his head lolled to the side.

“Dean?” Sam called, surprised at how young and scared he sounded, voice wavering. With that one word from Sammy, Dean’s eyes opened again.

“It’s okay, Sam… I’m okay.”

Bobby shook his head in disbelief.

“Dean, stay awake, son. How are you feeling? What happened?”

“Um,” Dean groaned, “hurts… bad.”

“What happened, Dean?” Bobby kept talking.

“Some kid… bumped into me… God,” he winced, trying to move.

“Sam, you got a blood pressure cuff in your med kit?”

“Umm, I think so. It’s old though.”

“Long as it works,” Bobby said, getting up off his knees, “Stay there, Dean. Won’t be long.”

“Dean?” Sam asked, placing his other hand on his head.

“Sammy? What’reyoudoin’?” he slurred.

“Uh,” Sam chuckled, “Helping you get better.”

Dean smiled and huffed weakly, “Good.”

The word alone felt like it cut Sam down the centre.

Bobby returned and started taking Dean’s blood pressure with their old beaten up blood pressure cuff. Sam wasn’t sure he’d even seen it used since dad was around.

Dean had closed his eyes again and ceased movement.

“His blood pressure is 80 on 35. No wonder he passed out.”

“God,” Sam sighed, and this was after he’d been lying down for 2 minutes.

“Get him some water. We have to get his BP up.”

“Bobby…” Sam was holding onto his brother’s hand, “Should we call his doctor?”

“That ain’t a bad idea,” Bobby grunted, squatting back down next to Dean, “Dean? Son, come on.”

Dean was out cold again.

“Do it, Sam.”

 

…

 

Once Sam had called the doctor, suddenly there was an ambulance in their driveway and paramedics charging through the door. There was a lot of chatter, a lot of barking statistics and orders. Dean’s blood pressure had come up slightly but they were putting a bag of fluid into him because it was clearly too low for him to regain consciousness. Shortly after they’d put a line in, he had a c-spine brace on and was being moved onto a stretcher. Sam was painfully reminded of the semi-truck crash they’d had back in 2006, when they were airlifted to the nearest hospital, as Sam continually screamed Dean’s name, waiting for a response that never came.

Tell me if they’re okay!

Are they even alive!?

Sam stood back and let them work. Dean didn’t seem scared. He wasn’t searching for Sam or Bobby to reassure him that everything would be okay. He wasn’t doing anything.

 

…

 

Sam rode in the ambulance with Dean and a few minutes into the trip he’d come around, his fingers gripping back at Sam’s hand.

“What’s going on?” he asked, blinking around at the ambulance.

“You passed out, Dean. We’re going to the hospital.”

“Surgery’s not today,” he mumbled, trying to push himself up.

“Whoa, steady there, Dean,” Tim, the paramedic said, keeping him still, “We need to check you over at the hospital.”

“Shoulder hurts,” he groaned, settling.

“I bet it does,” Tim said, “It should feel better once we get it back in. Might be having surgery sooner than you think.”

“Back in?” Sam swivelled his eyes up to Tim, then back to his brother’s arm.

“It’s dislocated. Could be from when the kid ran into him or when he hit the ground. Looks like a posterior dislocation too, but I can’t say for sure.”

“Oh, God. Dean,” Sam noticed the pallor of his brother’s face.

Even though the paramedics had given Dean enough painkillers to not feel anything at all, the panic on his face from the fact he could be going in to have surgery right now was like nothing Sam had seen before. And it made his heart ache for what the past 40 years had been like for him downstairs. The terror. Constantly.

“Dean? Hey, listen to me,” Tim leaned over him.

“He’s having a panic attack,” Sam explained, putting his hand on his brother’s chest. “Breathe, Dean.”

Dean was gulping in air, chest heaving. In a second he was going to break into a coughing fit and that would be very bad.

“Dean!” Sam put his face in his brother’s eye line, “It’s okay… Slow breaths, alright? You got it, brother.”

Dean seemed to calm. He pressed his eyes closed.

“I wanna go home,” he whispered.

It took everything Sam had not to cry.

 

…

 

Dean was poked and prodded and x-rayed and stripped down. He’d passed out from a massive drop in his blood pressure caused by acute, severe pain. Once they’d given him some fluids and painkillers he’d stayed conscious. Dr Reid had arrived at the hospital shortly after them and seeing the way Dean’s demeanour changed showed the trust he had in the man. At least that was the silver lining. They were more concerned about his spine and making sure no more trauma had occurred. So far, so good. Dean was on morphine, and out of his friggen tree. His shoulder was set now but they were taking him in to do the surgery early. It was a posterior dislocation, which was like 2% of all dislocations. Well, if anyone could do it, it was Dean. He’d torn something else apparently but there were no fractures at least. He was gowned up and ready to go. High as a friggen kite, which was undoubtedly a good thing. Sam hoped he wouldn’t remember the male orderly staring at his bare shoulder, handprint scar and all.

“What the hell happened to this guy?”

Yeah, exactly. Hell.

Sam had stayed with Dean until the last possible second, and even whacked out of his gourd, he’d still begged to be put under. As if they’d do the surgery with him awake, no anaesthetic, nothing. But it, again, reminded Sam of what Dean had been through, and it made him sick.

 

…

 

Bobby stood up when he saw Sam walking back into the waiting room.

“How’s he doing?”

Sam slumped into a chair and Bobby followed.

“They’re taking him in for surgery now… He’s messed up, Bobby.”

“Yeah,” Bobby nodded, bowing his head, “He’s a tough kid. He’ll be alright.”

“He’s just so scared… I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“It’s gonna take some time, Sam. But your brother’s resilient. And by the time he’s healed up from this he’ll be back to being a pain in both our asses.”

Sam chuckled, “God, I never thought I’d miss Dean being annoying.”

Bobby slapped Sam on the back, then wrapped his arm around him and pulled him close.

 

…

 

“Sam Winchester?”

Sam shot up, knocking Bobby’s head off his shoulder when Dr Jacobs had finally come down the hallway to talk to him.

“Yes, is there something wrong?”

“Dean’s coming out of the anaesthetic and he’s not well orientated.”

Crap.

“Dr Reid informed me of Dean’s… situation. I think it’d be best for him if you –“

“Of course.”

As soon as Sam went through the doors of the waiting room he heard the screams. He began to break into a jog, Dr Jacobs having to run to get ahead of him to direct him to the room. It was the same old mantra. Nooooo! Saaaaaam! Help me! Somebody heeeelp!

Sam burst into recovery and immediately found Dean. He was surrounded by nurses trying to subdue him. Luckily, his arm must have hurt too much to be moving it, but his other hand was gripping anything within reaching distance, which just happened to be one of the nurse’s shirts.

“Dean!” Sam boomed, fighting his way to the bedside and releasing the nurse from Dean’s tight grasp.

“Dean, hey. It’s okay… It’s okay. Shhhh…”

Dean’s eyes were wild but they fixed on Sam, taking a moment before flashing with recognition.

“Sammy?”

“You’re not there. I promise, Dean. I promise you.”

Dean’s eyes flitted over the people surrounding him.

“Back up,” Sam ordered. It came out defensive and territorial.

Once it was just Sam and Dean he calmed down.

“Where am I?”

“Hospital, Dean. Remember? You broke your wing,” he chuckled, pointing to Dean’s shoulder.

Dean looked confused.

“This is real,” Sam confirmed for him, squeezing his hand.

“Shoulder surgery, right?”

Sam nodded.

“Kay, got it.”

“You alright, now?”

Dean smiled weakly and closed his eyes.

“The nurse is gonna take your obs. You gonna let her?”

Dean nodded, still smiling, but not letting got of Sam’s hand.

 

…

 

It took Dean a little while but he seemed to settle, the fight draining out of him. Bobby was with him in recovery while Sam went to grab some coffee. The surgery hadn’t taken that long but Sam hadn’t eaten or anything since they’d brought him in. He was staring at the vending machine, not even knowing what button to push, when Dr Jacobs appeared beside him.

“Sam, how are you?” he asked, smiling politely.

Sam furrowed his brow a little, then remembered to be nice, “I’m fine. Tired. Did something happen?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve requested a mental health worker to come and have a word to Dean.”

Ohh, no, no, no.

“What? What do you mean?” Sam’s eyes opened wider.

“Well, considering his history of service and… what’s happened to him, I feel it’s the best course of action. Your brother is most likely suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, as well as other possible mood disorders, and substance abuse…”

“Have you sent someone to see him now?”

“Yes, I believe they’re in there talking to him now.”

“Excuse me,” Sam said, abandoning his coffee and breaking into a run (again) down the hall to where Dean was being assessed.

“Are you kidding me?”

He could hear Dean’s raised voice before he even opened the door.

Bobby was standing at Dean’s bedside with a hand on his good shoulder.

The male mental health worker was stepping slightly back as Dean continued to raise his voice.

“I don’t need to talk to anyone, about anything! I’m fine. What the hell gives you the right to speak to me about my problems!”

“Hey,” Sam said, walking over, trying to be a calming force in the room, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Sam. He was just leaving,” Dean bit.

“Dean, I know you’re not liking the idea of talking to me but I’m just here to assess how things are going for you to make sure you’re getting all the help you need.”

“I don’t need any help.”

Dean was looking like he was about to get out of the bed and beat this guy down.

To be completely honest, Sam was all for having Dean speak to a professional. He was concerned, to say the least, about Dean’s behaviour since he’d got back. And it would be fine for him to speak to someone, it would be great for him to speak to someone, if he did just get back from Afghanistan. But he didn’t get back from Afghanistan. He got back from hell. The hell. With fire and brimstone, and round the clock torture. So, Dean couldn’t rely on a guy with a degree. There were no qualifications to deal with that. It was just Sam. And Bobby. They’d just have to be enough.

“Look, thank you for coming to talk with my brother, but I think it’s best if you leave,” Sam put his hand on the guys shoulder and walked him from the room as he heard Dean complaining to Bobby about being on display like he was in a zoo.

“Listen…”

“Anthony,” he supplied.

“Anthony,” Sam nodded, “I appreciate you coming down, and I know Dr Jacobs is only looking out for what’s best for my brother when he asked you to see him, but Dean isn’t interested in talking to anyone about his mental state. I just need you to trust that my uncle and I have him in a supportive, stable environment, and what he’s going through we’re dealing with as a family. So, thanks for the sentiment, but we can handle it.”

“Sam, I’m not sure that you can provide everything your brother needs –“

“I am,” Sam said, face firm, before he turned on his heals and went back to Dean.

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean griped as soon as he saw him.

“I dunno, man. Let’s get you out of here.”

 

…

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

Holy mother Winchester!!! So many feeeeellsssss I'm rolling in them! 

I'm on my phone so quoting sucks but hnnnngggggff...!!! Dean baby!

Also, for you. Nursing placement.  Three weeks. AKF. Fangy approves. Take all the time you need hon, we will still be here waiting anxiously for more.

[Wow Really?]

This is SO ridiculously good.. hit me in all the right places!  And even though we might not see you for a while, I will be right here waiting for you to return. Can't wait to see how the rest of this one goes. You have more important things to concentrate on.. I wish you all the luck in the world with your career. 

On a side note, my heart has been with every single one of these campaigns.. Every one of them has spoken to me on a very personal level, right at the time that I need them to the most. These last two have been very hard for me to embrace because of the fact that I battle self-hatred BIG time.. but that doesn't make it any less important for me to hear. For everyone to hear. These guys are so important to me.. Jensen especially, for reasons that I can't go into here.. And that is my long-winded way of saying that I'm with you and behind you 1000%. #SPNFamily!!! 

[telltale]

This chapter was so fast-paced and exciting, and as always, heartbreaking!  Loving that you're going in a little heavier on the mental health stuff, as you say.  It's a real interest of mine in rl, in my own life, and as pertains to Dean Winchester.

 

Congrats on your nursing placement!  I think you will do great.  Understanding and empathy is a huge part of it and you have that going for you.  See you whenever you get a chance! 

[RipleyToo]

Beautiful story and good luck

[MissBayliss]

Sorry for this break, beautiful Supernatural squirrels. You'll notice I've posted updates to some other fics (and another new one), but this one is going to take me a bit longer. Sometimes I miss writing the fluffy, sneezy, smexy goodness and need a break from the heaviness of this fic. When I have more time to invest emotionally in it, I'll be back at it. Promise. Thanks again. (And sorry this isn't an update!)